


Lead Me Not Into Temptation

by the_transfeminine_mystique



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, circa 1400s small Irish town fic, moira is a parish priest, short fic, very short fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-10
Updated: 2018-10-10
Packaged: 2019-07-29 02:52:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16255184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_transfeminine_mystique/pseuds/the_transfeminine_mystique
Summary: The Church had always fascinated the young Moira O’Deorain, and she wasn’t old at all when she decided that the thing she wanted more than anything else was to be a priest. And she had managed to become one. She pursued her education under the name “Morgan,” and had managed to fool everybody so far. She didn’t necessarily want to be a man, but the priesthood was gender-restricted. What else could she do? Her gender wasn’t going to stop her from obtaining the thing she wanted more than anything else, and now here she was, hurrying to her parish.





	Lead Me Not Into Temptation

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this piece of art, by chls46.tumblr.com
> 
> https://chls46.tumblr.com/post/178890418034/our-father-who-art-in-heaven

“Afternoon, father!”

The greeting was met with a ghost of a smile and a sharp nod. “Afternoon, Mr. McDermott, lovely weather.”

The priest began walking imperceptibly faster, hoping to get to the small country parish without running into many more people. Small-talk was unbearable. And besides, a mysterious clerical presence was preferable to an overly familiar one.

Father O’Deorain had been newly assigned to the village, and Father O’Deorain was in no hurry to let the villagers break through the professional barrier that stood between them.

For good reason: Father O’Deorain was, in fact, a woman.

The Church had always fascinated the young Moira O’Deorain, and she wasn’t old at all when she decided that the thing she wanted more than anything else was to be a priest. And she had managed to become one. She pursued her education under the name “Morgan,” and had managed to fool everybody so far. She didn’t necessarily  _ want _ to be a man, but the priesthood was gender-restricted. What else could she do? Her gender wasn’t going to stop her from obtaining the thing she wanted more than anything else, and now here she was, hurrying to her parish.

She made it without being stopped by anybody else, and immediately went to the small chapel that adjoined the church itself. It had been a long day already, and she needed a minute to herself.

She wasn’t to get that minute.

She was barely through the first line of the Lord’s Prayer when she heard footsteps behind her. Determined to not be pulled into a conversation, she kept praying, hoping that whoever it was would get the hint and go away.

Annoyingly, the footsteps simply got closer, until they were right next to her. Moira briefly considered giving a sharp word or two in reprimand for not approaching the altar with sufficient respect, but decided instead to simply continue pointedly ignoring the intruder.

 

_ And lead me not into temptation, but deliver me from evil _ .

 

Moira stiffened as she felt a hand on her cheek. She didn’t know what to do, so she just knelt there, motionless, waiting for the other person to give some explanation.

When the stranger spoke, her voice was deep and smooth and right in Moira’s ear. “Forgive me, father, for I have sinned.”

Moira fought every instinct she had to whip around and face down whoever this was who was disrespecting the chapel and her personal practice, and replied in a voice as calm and level as she could muster. “What is this sin, my child?”

It wasn’t exactly the proper format for this, but if this was the stranger trying to provoke a reaction, Moira wasn’t going to let herself appear to be rattled by it.

“Heresy.”

That wasn’t what Moira had expected. That wasn’t what she expected at all.

“What heresy have you committed yourself to?”

“I believe that God is singular, not a trinity, and is found in every material thing. I believe that God is a woman. And I believe you are, as well.”

The rosary which had been wrapped around Moira’s fingers clattered to the floor.

“How…?”

The stranger laughed, and Moira took that opportunity to glance to her side for the first time and look at her. She was dressed in ragged clothes that were revealing almost to the point of indecency, and had a wide-brimmed hat on. Moira recognized her immediately as a figure she had seen before, always in passing, and always on the very edges of the village.

“How did I know you were a woman? Easy. Your eyes. Your manner. Your softness that you try so hard to hide. Is it a surprise I know? I didn’t begin practicing witchcraft to  _ not _ know things, Moira O’Deorain.”

Moira’s mind was reeling. It had been years since anybody had called her by her real name. But this was dangerous, the woman standing over her kneeling form was dangerous.

“What do you want with me?”

She felt warm fingers under her chin, and silently cursed herself for involuntarily leaning her head into them. The stranger laughed again.

“What do I want from another woman of the Spirit? Companionship. Share with me the closeness you’ve withheld from everybody else.”

Moira’s voice was low when she responded. “And if I say no?”

“Are you expecting me to say I’d tell your secret? I trust you think better of me. I’m not interested in coercion.”

“What would you do to me?”

The stranger’s voice was right in Moira’s ear, little more than a whisper. “I’d love you.”


End file.
